<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Family Portrait by idanato</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25359322">Family Portrait</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/idanato/pseuds/idanato'>idanato</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Found Family, Gen, Post-War, edelgard's siblings - Freeform, pre-insurrection flashbacks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:20:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25359322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/idanato/pseuds/idanato</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after the end of the war, Hubert organizes a surprise reunion to commemorate that which has been lost and celebrate what has been found.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Family Portrait</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Just before dawn, Hubert’s eyes flicker open. He has a reputation for lurking in shadows, and therefore people imagine he is a night owl. However it is these soft blue shadows just before daybreak that are truly his milieu. He prefers to be fully dressed before the staff comes in to light the fires because he dislikes the idea of anyone seeing him sleeping. Ferdinand teases him that this only makes him more unapproachable and intimidating, and Hubert ignores him because that is precisely the point.</p><p>Today is the first anniversary of the end of the war, and Hubert, usually the one carrying out orders (sometimes with the occasional modification), is the one making the plans. The halls of the Imperial palace are quiet these days but if everyone manages to hold their part in this play, today things will be as loud like they used to be. His shoes make no noise on the marble, by design. Ferdinand likes those <em>tap-tap-tap-tap</em> shoes that announce his impending arrival wherever he goes. Edelgard too has a softer, but no less important, <em>clicking</em> of her heels that warns people someone very important is walking down the corridor. Hubert can tell, with absolute certainty, who is coming to his office whenever they approach. For himself though he always prefers to hold onto that element of surprise.</p><p>He remembers running through these halls as a boy and missing much of what was going on. Seeing who could reach the hall of portraits first was a contest of skill; Hubert was very fast then, though he would always pretend to trip over a shoe lace and fall behind to let a prince or princess pass him and take the victory. That was the place of the von Vestras to the von Hresvelgs, always behind them at their beck and call, never ahead of them. He still must have run too fast though to have missed the signals that something wrong was brewing within this place. The Insurrection did not happen in an instant, though it felt that way as a child; it had been years in the making. Now Hubert walks slower, still reaching his destinations exactly when he means to, and with nothing escaping his attention.</p><p>The hall of portraits is still somewhat dim with its thick velvet curtains drawn. Hubert checks his watch, and is unimpressed that his contact is late, though it gives him time to admire the painting they are taking down today. Ionius, now dead, is happily frozen in time in this painting from 1169. His hair is a familiar light brown and eyes less heavy for they have not yet seen the losses that will begin in just two years. He is sitting in a gilded chair surrounded by his 11 children, what he must have thought then would be his legacy. The eldest, a son of unparalleled nobility and grace, exhibits perfect posture in his military style jacket. Wilhelm, was he IV or VI? Hubert can barely recall. Wilhelm is seventeen and full of promise, standing tall and proud. He is the Crown Prince of Adrestia, destined to attend Garreg Mach and assume the throne in time.</p><p>Next to him is a seated sister, Angelica, her hair slightly darker than her father’s and done up in an elaborate way. She is sixteen and a pretty crown jewel soon to be betrothed. In the evenings she loves to play the piano and sing the latest opera songs to a captive audience of her siblings. In her arms is the very youngest, Elena, who despite being so small, not yet two, seems to understand quite a bit. Sometimes Hubert, then nine, is forced to entertain her, and already she understands how to match her blocks to the appropriate shaped hole in her little baby toys. The second youngest, Claus, barely three, clutches Angelica’s voluminous skirts. He smiles big to show off his teeth. His favorite things are the statues of heroic looking emperors lining the entrance to the palace.</p><p>The third eldest is bespectacled Gereon, who insisted on holding a book in the portrait as if to tell everyone looking from the future that he knew even at fourteen that he is destined to be a great scholar. The next, Isabel, cut her own hair right before the portrait was painted, eliciting an uproar from her mother. From her poise and the glint in her eye Hubert knows she does not care. She may not be Emperor someday but it is sure she will be a leader, perhaps in charge of a battalion. For now she is twelve and full of pride. Then there is curious Alexis, eyes wide and smile small, a little short for ten. No one is quite sure what to make of Alexis, a bit of temper when riled, but otherwise quiet and always watching everyone and everything. Next in succession are the twins, who look almost identical down to the same tooth lost mere days apart. Joseph is frowning as his sister Maria squeezes him tight. They are two whole months older than Hubert and they laud it over him as if those weeks have conferred them special wisdom that only older children know.</p><p>Shy and sensitive Sophia holds Edelgard, here only seven, by the hand. Sophia is seven and half, daughter of another consort, and barely an inch taller than what will someday be the Emperor of Adrestia. They are close and whisper secrets to each other, and giggle when Hubert asks what they are talking about. It is not for him to know. Edelgard does not stand out among her siblings in this moment from a time long past. Her hair is a forgettable shade of brown held up by violet ribbons to match her eyes. Her smile is big and she is surrounded by those she loves.</p><p>However, it is not just Hresvelgs in the picture. The Marquis von Vestra stands, closed lipped, behind Ionius’ chair and practically in a shadow. His eyes are piercing and the painter made him appear almost threatening among the smiling children. Hubert is aware of a whole branch of art historians who seek hidden messages imparted by painters, and he wonders if this one was trying to warn them of what was coming. Hubert often speculates on who saw the Insurrection on the horizon, and how the Emperor could be so blind.</p><p>The Marquis’ gloved hand rests on the shoulder of a little boy, Hubert, aged nine. Both green eyes are staring at the painter, trusting, and not yet obscured by jet black hair hanging in his face and meant to hide him away. In those days he wore it how his mother cut it, extremely short to show off his face. His smile matches his father’s, thin, but slightly worried. He is always worried about not living up to his duties. Yet he is proud to be a von Vestra, and he is proud to be someone worth including in this portrait. He is proud in 1169 because he does not yet know what his father is about to do.</p><p>It has been eighteen years, and Hubert can still hear his father’s voice ringing in his ears. The Marquis was strict, so very strict, and so Hubert learned young how to lie.</p><p>
  <em>Were you out by the pond?</em>
</p><p><em>No sir</em>, delivered flawlessly even as a toad let out a croak from his back pocket. It took Hubert years to realize that he was not getting anything over on his father. Such moments were just the Marquis imparting lessons on deception. Hubert’s training formally began at six, but there was leaning hidden beneath every action, even the Insurrection. <em>Do what you must to see tomorrow.</em></p><p><em>Click-clack, click-clack</em>, shouts some unintentionally loud shoes echoing upon the marble. Hubert’s eyes trace to the person meeting him. The head of the staff looks like he dressed in a hurry, “Minister von Vestra, you’re early.”</p><p>No, he was not. Yet he lets it slide because he enjoyed the unanticipated moment of quiet with the Hresvelgs. Hubert clears his throat, “This is the painting I would like taken down.”</p><p>“Of course,” the man wrings his hands as he looks at the massive portrait. It will be a beast to take down only to rehang it later but he dares not voice these concerns.</p><p>Hubert pretends not to notice the effect his presence has on this man, “That chair, the one Ionius is in, do we still have it?”</p><p>“I’m sure it’s somewhere—”</p><p>“Perfect, have it ready for later,” orders Hubert before giving the man a small bows to signal the end of their meeting.</p><p>Hubert waits in the dining room with his eyes on his pocket watch. 7:59 and the <em>tap-tap-tap-tap</em> gets louder in the hall as Ferdinand arrives to enjoy his tea and whatever pastries have been laid out.</p><p>“Hubert, happy New Adrestia day,” says Ferdinand as he bows dramatically. He thinks himself a morning person.</p><p>“And to you,” returns Hubert between sips of coffee.</p><p>Ferdinand takes his usual seat at their private table. Edelgard’s chair rests between them, though Hubert imagines that today she is sleeping in because it is a holiday and the festivities will be long. Ferdinand spreads clotted cream upon his scone, “So now that it is the big day, can you tell me what you have up your sleeves?”</p><p>“You know the answer to that is always a stiletto,” says Hubert as he watches Ferdinand’s expressive face flip into a frown.</p><p>“Ha, ha,” says Ferdinand in a poor imitation of Hubert’s chuckle, more a <em>heh</em> than a <em>ha</em>. “But really Hubert, you cannot hold out on me forever. What are you planning?”</p><p>Hubert shrugs knowing that Ferdinand compulsively needs to be in the know. Secrets are Hubert’s business, and no one has more nor is better at keeping them. There are big secrets, like how he plans to assassinate Arundel in the coming months, and small secrets like the surprise he is organizing today for Edelgard. “You’ll just have to wait like everyone else.”</p><p>“I am the Prime Minister,” tries Ferdinand, to no effect. Titles, <em>Marquis, Duke, Count</em>, haven’t meant much to Hubert in many years. There is only one he cares about, <em>Emperor</em>. Though once a younger Hubert had looked up to a title, <em>Crown Prince</em>, as he and Edelgard speculated what sort of ruler Wilhelm would become. They were certain he would be simply the best and could not imagine anyone else in the role. He was noble, honest, and true, gone without issue, but with a spiritual successor here to fill his shoes. Though Wilhelm’s had surely never <em>tapped</em> this much.</p><p>“I am sure you will wait to find out with dignity and grace,” says Hubert as something between a sneer and a smile curls up the corner of his lip. He delights in the way Ferdinand’s face contorts like they are bitter rivals again at school. Hubert will have to keep close watch on him today to make sure he does not inadvertently spoil things with his snooping.</p><p>***</p><p>Hubert sees the hat first because how could anyone not see that hat from a mile away? It’s massive, and as big as the personality holding it up. “Hubie, darling,” coos Dorothea as she is helped from the carriage by a footman. She’s been touring New Adrestia with company, and Caspar jumps out behind her. Lysithea has also hitched a ride. Their last stop was Myrrdin, just beyond the Ordelia’s lands. Lysithea looks like she has listened to these two non-stop talkers for the last fortnight, and Hubert envies her for it.</p><p><em>Big sis</em> never caught on as a nickname like Hubie, but Dorothea exudes that energy all the same. Caspar fights the footman in an attempt to carry all the bags himself as Lysithea narrowly dodges a trunk. Despite the younger woman being twenty one whole years of age, she is still the baby of the group and the last to have been recruited. Perhaps she is the smartest of them too, though Linhardt would be fiercer competition if his focus was not so fleeting.</p><p>Dorothea hikes her skirts up to climb the stairs. She kisses Hubert on each cheek without hesitation; she’s bold, she’s brilliant, and she doesn’t mind his reputation (maybe she’s even used it to shake off a bad boyfriend here and there). “Welcome back,” says Hubert as he watches Caspar struggling with their bags.</p><p>For a moment it is 1169 again, and Angelica is singing a snippet of a new opera while Elana sorts her blocks and Claus gives him a big grin; but it’s 1187 and this is an original song Dorothea wrote on the road that’s clearly not quite done. Caspar is smiling to prove his is unaffected by Dorothea’s chronic over-packing, and Lysithea is beyond blocks and one of the preeminent magic scholars of the Empire. Hubert gestures for them to follow him inside, “It’s been so long since you’ve been home.”</p><p>Ferdinand is on the scent trying to unveil Hubert’s plans, “Ah! You have come for the celebration, tell me, what are you looking forward to most?”</p><p>A clever strategy, but Hubert is one step ahead. He was their tactician over Ferdinand for a reason. Lysithea is the first to deflate Ferdinand’s excitement, “I was just told to be here, I don’t know what we’re doing.” Foiled but not defeated, Ferdinand escorts the arrivals towards the dining room to share breakfast with the Emperor. Hubert slips into the shadows before Ferdinand can think to follow him to his next meeting.</p><p>Hubert checks his watch again. One minute behind schedule. He’s on the roof, though he hates it up here with all his might. <em>Flap, flap</em>. A feather floats down to land on Hubert’s shoulder. He shields his eyes as he looks up into the sky. Watching pegasus fly around is one of only two reasons he ever climbs to this roof. Pegasus are majestic, free, and not afraid of heights (he assumes). They are simply the perfect animal and were he not an overgrown lover of the ground he’d be trying to convince one to give a man a chance.</p><p>The second reason to ascend to roof level is to greet foreign royalty. Petra lands her animal with grace — though really could a pegasus ever truly be accused of being clumsy? — and hops down from her mount. The sky watch stable hands collect the reins and begin unpack her things as Petra hugs Hubert.</p><p>“How was the trip?” Hubert admires her fearlessness. She does not know she touches the sun each and every flight in his eyes.</p><p>Petra beams, “The upstream smiled on me today.” She shakes her fingers through her thick magenta hair, which now barely passes her chin, “What do you think?”</p><p>“You look wonderful, as usual, your majesty,” says Hubert as he offers her his arm so that he can lead her to the others. She is still several years from her coronation, but when she takes her throne, Brigid will be as strong and limitless in its potential as she is in the air.</p><p>They meander in their path to pick up two other familiar faces. Linhardt is awake and alert because he has a new phenomenon he has been ardently researching over the last year: Byleth has lost the crest of flames. It suggests someone can survive the loss of a crest, and with that news Hubert’s heart soars at the prospect of Edelgard and Lysithea being spared their early fates. Linhardt has never exhibited any doubts in his scholarly abilities. This is a problem he will solve. He shall be the the greatest crest scholar of their generation, because there simply is no room for failure in his vision of his future.</p><p>The professor’s hair is dark like when they first arrived at Garreg Mach but their eyes seem heavy with concerns. Something deep inside them was silenced upon Rhea’s defeat. Byleth keeps touching their chest, confirming that their heart is still beating. They swing the Sword of Seiros around, finally adjusted to its weight and balance after fighting with the Sword of the Creator for what felt like years. They will be just as deadly with this implement. The Ashen Demon was never truly quelled even if they are changed.</p><p>Hubert used to be suspicious and afraid of the Professor. He looks back at his threats and cringes, but Byleth reminds him of another person whom he was similarly confused and frightened by. Alexis, who bit Hubert as a boy and then declared he was ‘<em>fine</em>’. Alexis, who seemed to not really understand much about most things, and yet seemed to know much about a secret world that no one else was privy to. By the time Hubert thought he’d figured that child out, they were already gone. He will not let the professor fade away, he is determined to help them find their place in this new world.</p><p>Hubert enjoys more coffee as he listens to his friends catching up over brunch. Edelgard is slightly confused by the sudden audience. She had no idea they were all coming or she might have deigned to wear real clothes to eat her morning meal. Her crimson robe is drawn tight and her hair hangs loose. No one really minds though she is clearly not accustomed to being so exposed. However if she is to be vulnerable around anyone, it is these people around the breakfast table. Ferdinand has already attempted to interrogate each one as to what scheme Hubert is attempting to carry out. No one knows more than they need to, and his every question is met with a dead end.</p><p>There’s a quiet tap at Hubert’s shoulder and whisper in his ear, “Minister, you’re needed at the north entrance.” Hubert quietly excuses himself and makes haste to the gates of the palace. The eastern gates are the big gilded ones that face the city, those are where most people come in. The western gate is a private dock, and the southern leads to the botanical gardens. The northern road is quiet, less well traveled, but well known to a little boy in 1171 running away from home. He watched from his windows as the carriage bearing Arundel’s crest blazed a path towards that gate in the dead of night. He resolved then that he would bravely bring Edelgard home, because as a von Vestra it was his duty to ensure her safety. As her friend, it was his duty to be at her side.</p><p>He hadn’t thought too much about a plan. He had just gone into the night with whatever supplies he could get his hands on quickly. Though as one soldier put it days later as they brought him home to his father, he had packed a grown man’s balls to do what he’d done to those harangued soldiers for three straight days of chase. He felt a total failure then, but looking back, Hubert musters an ounce of pride at the attempt.</p><p>Waiting at the north gate are two familiar faces that are hard to separate. Their looks are strongly shared, as if they could be twins, though one is cold as the ice cream he enjoys and the other as warm as the cakes she pulls from the oven. “Mercedes, Jeritza, welcome to Enbarr,” says Hubert as he gives a nod to the guards to let the Death Knight and this Bishop in.</p><p>Hubert is old compared to most of his friends, but Mercedes and Jeritza are (ever so slightly) older and they do not let him forget it. “Oh my Hubert, your grays really stand out against the black don’t they,” says Mercedes gently as she proceeds, uninvited, to pluck one from his head.</p><p>Hubert instinctively smooths his hair and dodges her before she can get another. He does not have many, but they are there and sure to multiply as the years continue. At twenty, he saw thirty as incomprehensible, but now at nearly twenty-seven he sometimes wonders about forty, fifty, and even further in the future.</p><p>“Are we the last to arrive?” Jeritza looks at the palace rising before them as they make their approach. He has never been here despite so many years of service to the Empire.</p><p>Two are still yet to arrive but they’ll be here soon enough. They live in Enbarr after all. Finally, one is on the grounds, though Hubert supposes she will need fetching because she does not like to leave her familiar places. Hubert drops the siblings Lamine at brunch and continues towards the south gate.</p><p>He’s nearly forgotten his flower. Hubert carefully pins the precious embroidered favor upon his lapel as he makes his way into the botanical gardens. Bernadetta has not been afraid of him for a long time but he knows she likes it when he wears it. He likes it when he wears it.</p><p>“Ack! Who’s there!” Bernadetta brandishes her clippers like he’s a particularly violent vine. She has been working on the finishing touches of an ambitious arrangement of shrubs and flowers. She has been living in Enbarr since the end of the war at Edelgard’s invitation, and they have become the closest of confidants. Sometimes Hubert walks in on them whispering and when he asks what they are discussing they give him sly smiles and say it is not for him to know.</p><p>“It’s just me, but I thought you might like to join the others,” says Hubert as he admires her work. She is his one co-conspirator in this gambit and she has been toiling in the gardens since it started getting warm enough to make it ready. Some plants have not yet bloomed, but Hubert is sure that when they all open up together it will be a sight to behold.</p><p>The fancy chair, the one Ionius was sitting in in the portrait has been found and placed. The portrait from 1169 is on display next to an artist’s set-up. That old painting, done in a stuffy room with velvet drapery for a backdrop, is a memory of a time gone. This is a new dawn, this is a new Adrestia. They need a new family portrait, but they won’t do it packed into an enclosed uncomfortable space. They’ll have it painted in the garden. Today is just the first sitting, a time to get the initial sketch done. It’s hard to gather everyone up in one place these days, but they are a family and they will always find some time to come together when they receive the call home.</p><p>After Bernadetta has cleaned up she joins the others while Hubert waits on the last two. They will arrive soon, he hopes, and he can hear them coming because they are having an argument. “What do you mean this is too revealing for an official portrait?” Maneula's heels <em>clack</em> upon the cobblestone. “I thought you liked this dress!”</p><p>“I do, I find it very nice, but not for posterity!” says Hanneman, clearly flustered by her. He is looking noble in his fine coat, though he has not held his title in decades. He has taken on informal ones instead: <em>mentor, father, friend</em>.</p><p>“I look great, of course I want this to be how people remember me in the future,” snaps Manuela as she adjusts the revealing bust of her dress. No one will forget her. They are always riling each other, butting heads, and always making up.</p><p>Hubert remembers how in private his father would complain about Ionius. They would fight over policy and argue about laws. They loved each other, in only that special way that von Vestra and a von Hresvelg understood, but eventually there was a disagreement between them that years of loyalty and friendship could not absolve. It was a disagreement that killed them both in the end.</p><p>Hubert hid for many years, behind his hair, behind his scowl, and behind his venomous words. He hid because he was ashamed of his father’s role in the Insurrection, and he was consumed by the guilt of knowing that he, Hubert, was in the end responsible for his father’s deeds. A von Vestra was supposed to love the von Hresvelgs above all others, but one father had dared to love his son more.</p><p>In 1171 Hubert was dying then from losing his friends, one by one, made sicker and sicker until they perished. He was not experimented on, but for a time he felt he was slipping away right beside them. Wilhelm, once so strong, ended up so weak. Angelica’s beauty was mutilated and twisted away. Gereon, so brilliant, was at a loss to understand why this was happening. Isabel’s pride gave way to begging for mercy at the end. Alexis, so strange and yet beloved, went to sleep one night and just never woke up. The twins did not like to be without each other, so when Maria died Joseph seemed to speed up his own demise to join her. Sophia attempted to hide, but she was found and taken to that place to die. Claus’ smiles faded forever, and Elana, clearly aware but without a strong sense of speaking, could only communicate all the things she was thinking with her cries. It was Edelgard alone that survived, and Edelgard alone that gave Hubert the strength to continue through his guilt for having survived.</p><p>So later as he leads her and their little procession of friends to the gardens because he wants to give her a special gift for this New Adrestia day. They were all there again together for the first time in a while. Each sibling was not replaced but re-imagined inside the lives of their found family, all finally home to celebrate all they had achieved. Linhardt brings a book because he refuses to pause his studies for a sitting like this. Caspar practices his smile even though his face will not be painted for some time. Lysithea takes it all in as if understanding but seeing another family she does not quite have the words or memories to really speak about. Ferdinand stands proud in his Prime Minister regalia, and Dorothea’s hair is piled tall in the latest fashion from Derdriu. Petra looks like she is already Queen of Brigid and ready to take its helm. Byleth has never been in a painting before but does not look nervous and seems to take it all in stride. Mercedes smiles as she hugs Jeritza and tells him to at least try a grin (he does not). Manuela and Hanneman stand out as a set, a pair, and Hubert hopes they will never find a disagreement that is too big to settle.</p><p>Edelgard surveys the old portrait and takes in the composition of the new one. Everyone is in their place, whether they know it or not. She smiles briefly at Hubert before assuming her seat in the center. Hanneman ends up behind her and places a hand on Hubert’s shoulder in an outright paternal gesture, “Good work in bringing this all together.” Bernadetta takes Edelgard’s hand and all feels right. Hubert nods to the artist, who begins the work on a new family portrait. This is just the start of the New Adrestia day, and Hubert has many more things planned to celebrate his family found anew.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>